On the Contrary
by in-prose
Summary: After the kiss and just a little smutty. Monsoon one shot.


_Title_: On the Contrary  
><em>Spoilers<em>: Tempus, Monsoon  
><em>Summary<em>: One shot for the episode Monsoon.  
><em>Author's Notes<em>: Watched Monsoon. Stayed up too late. Finished at 1:30am, so please excuse any mistakes. Comment = love.  
><em>Disclaimer<em>: These are not my characters, I just play with them. No copyright infringement intended.

On the Contrary

"Dear God."

"Mad?" asks Charlotte, sounding suddenly a little shy.

"On the contrary," answers Helen, "I just haven't been kissed in that way in a very long time."

Charlotte pushes back a stand of Helen's wild hair. She looks hopeful. Helen leans in this time. She is equally a part of this. Her human contact had been so minimal over the past century. It has only been a few weeks since returning to timeline, she is still craving it. Living like a nun allowed for reflection, but she was so alone. She could count the days and knowing exactly what was going to happen. She can't dwell any longer. The present is standing in front of her.

She pulls Charlotte closer, but not close enough. Soft lips against soft lips. It lasts only a few seconds. A tease. A taste. Charlotte moves back.

"You can't go now," she says.

Their face are nearly touching. Their lips still brushing against each other. Helen exhales. Her eyes are half closed. "I believe I have changed my mind. A few days, perhaps," she says.

Charlotte smiles. Helen feels it rather than see it.

She opens her eyes. She remembers were she is. "We have business first," says Helen.

Charlotte looks crushed, "I'm sorry. I thought—"

"I know what you thought. I'm not saying no. We just can't forget ourselves. That is for tonight," Helen says. She kisses Charlotte again. Briefly. Another taste. "A torrid affair. A secret," she whispers into Charlotte's ear.

Helen is the one to take a step backwards. She unwinds herself from Charlotte. She pushes her hair behind her shoulders. She straights her torn sweater as best as she can. Charlotte watches.

The plane has landed. They board. They do not sit next to each other. Helen is focused. She catches Charlotte watching her. Charlotte catches Helen watching her, but only once. The negotiations with Feliz go exactly as planned. Helen has accounts and legal documents secured. She observes a nurse Feliz brought with him take two vials of Charlotte's blood. The virus will be separated and kept safe; the rest will be absorbed harmlessly into Charlotte's body. Both the nurse and Charlotte are reassuring. Then, the drinks are liberally served and she partakes.

"Helen, can I offer you a lift to the main land?" asks Feliz, "I imagine you are anxious to return to your Sanctuary."

"I've decided to stay on a few days. I rarely get the chance to disconnect and I believe I've earned it after the day I've had," she says with a smile.

They chat for a while longer. The business is done; there is nothing important left to do. Feliz offers them dinner. They accept. When the meal is finished, he offers more drinks. Both women decline. Charlotte claims she is feeling light headed. Helen is in desperate need of a shower and to find a place to stay as her plane exploded.

"I may know a place. Another one of researches said they have these little bungalows. I think it was pretty basic, but it should have a bed and that's all I want in the world," Charlotte says.

"That sounds lovely. Thanks for suggestion. I'll share your cab," says Helen while thinking, 'And your bed.'

Night is creeping over the island. They leave together and climb into the back of a rickety taxi. The driver speaks little English. Charlotte to directs him to the resort in French. In the back seat, Charlotte snakes her fingers in between Helen's.

The resort is gorgeous, like paradise. It's full of honeymooners. Helen marches up to the front desk and asks for the largest bungalow. Separate. Private. Of course with an ocean view, but I will not accept a change in the price. Luggage? Just the two small bags. The cuts? The explosion at the airport. The whole island knows about it.

The receptionist shows them to the room, really the rooms. The little hut stands alone at the end of a little boardwalk. The front faces the beach and the thick forest. Helen can hear the leaves rustling in the breeze. Along the back, once the bamboo curtain is pulled away, the entire bedroom opens out into the ocean. The moon is the only source of light.

Helen stares out at the water unable to keep herself from feeling the expanse of time she has lived through. It is endless like the ocean is endless, especially in the darkness. She is so very tired even with Charlotte so close, Helen would be happy if they just slept wrapped in each others arms. She does not voice this.

Charlotte walks up behind Helen. She removes Helen's tattered sweater without touching her skin. She kisses Helen's shoulder where the glass had sliced her flesh.

"Does it hurt?" she asks.

"Not anymore," Helen says.

Still without facing her, Charlotte unzipped Helen's dress and lets it fall to her ankles. Her skin tingles. She swallows. Charlotte kisses her shoulders again and again. Finally, Helen must spin around to face Charlotte. Dark eyes staring into blue ones. Charlotte is only in a small pair of panties. Now the kisses move along her throat as Charlotte undoes Helen's bra. That too falls to floor.

Charlotte pulls at Helen's arms. After a few steps, they fall onto the bed and Charlotte is beneath Helen. With a firm motion, Charlotte rolls Helen on to her back. She pauses for a moment to allow a heavy, charged silence to build and then more kisses. Lips touching and tongues searching for secrets. Skin against skin. Charlotte is in charge. And Helen trusts her; she releases control. She gives Charlotte the power and she relishes it.

Helen is timeworn, but for once her partner has more experience. Helen has always prided herself on her open mind. A soul is a soul, but there was no denying it was usually men who aroused her. But a soul is a soul and sometimes that changes. Charlotte was not the first, but there had only been a handful of other women. Helen was not one to label or be labeled.

And now Helen presses against Charlotte's body as if she couldn't get close enough. Never close enough. They are in fluid motion together and Helen knows only the fire burning in her belly. The way Charlotte's tongue runs along her inter-thigh. The sweet taste of Charlotte's neck as she moans. Fingers that slip along hot, slick flesh.

The ocean becomes the only sound apart from their breathing. The moment finally slows. Charlotte's head rests on Helen's breast and their legs are tangled beneath a sheet only half attached to the bed. They are quiet and Helen realizes that Charlotte is trembling.

"Darling, you are shaking," Helen whispers although there is only the sky to hear them. She kisses each of Charlotte's eyelids.

"I can't help it. I'm afraid."

More kisses. "You are safe."

"I've never held a gun that wasn't loaded with tranquillizers before," she confesses.

"And I've held too many. Far too many," says Helen.

"You're sounding like an old lady again."

"I told you, I am an old lady."

"You can't be as old as you think about what we just did," says Charlotte and kisses Helen's collarbone and moves lower. Helen knows she is trying to distract herself.

Helen exhales deeply. "We can do this or you can get your answers," she says, hoping Charlotte with choose the former.

Charlotte stops, "How old _are_ you?" she asks.

"You learnt of a world that you could have gone your entire life without knowing existed today. You didn't hesitate. But now you have another choose: stay on the surface or dive deeper."

"Tell me."

"I am two hundred and seventy-four years old."

"Impossible! There's no need to lie," Charlotte snaps.

"In that case, I'm thirty-seven," she says in a flat voice. She rolls onto her back and closes her eyes briefly.

"You're serious? You are really over two hundred years old?"

"Yes."

"Helen, I'm sorry," says Charlotte. The name feels more like a kiss. "I just don't understand how."

"It doesn't matter how. I work with the types of abnormals you met to today. The longevity was what at first I thought of as a benefit of working at the forefront of science. Now, I would do nearly anything to take back the time. Do it again. Make other choices." She's had that chance and could only watch.

Charlotte is shaking again.

"You're safe," Helen repeats, "I shouldn't have told you. It's too much."

"No, I wanted to know. I'm just…"

"And that's all you need to be. You were very brave."

"I can still see her knife," whispers Charlotte.

"I'm so sorry," says Helen, "I can't help but think this is my fault."

"What are you talking about? You rescued me."

"Trouble seems to follow me. Nothing goes well." It was true even in her seclusion. Trouble would find her; trouble and death.

"You saved my life today. I will never repay that dept."

"There is nothing to repay."

Charlotte untangled uncoil their bodies. She sat up and crossed the thin legs beneath her. She simply looked other woman lying in the bed. Helen felt incredibly exposed and it has nothing to do with her naked body.

"Stop," Helen whispered. She closed her eyes again.

"Stop what?"

"Seeing me." This is why she hesitates to act upon any feelings she may have for another woman. It isn't physical; it's the other woman's intuition.

"I can't help it. You are beautiful."

"I am flawed."

"And that is why you are beautiful. I see new cuts. I see old scars," Charlotte began tracing the imperfections in Helen's skin, "I see stretch marks. You're a mother?"

Helen visibly flinches at Charlotte's words. Her body changed very slowly. Scars sometimes didn't fade and the stretch marks from her pregnancy were still visible.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," says Charlotte.

"I'm not embarrassed. I _was_ a mother."

Charlotte doesn't ask. She lies back down and pulls Helen over. Helen can no longer see her face.

"You are the most amazing person I've ever met," says Charlotte.

Helen doesn't answer, just allows herself to be held.


End file.
